Modern Magic Series: Prequel & Books 1-3 Read online

  Modern Magic Box Set

  Prequel & Books 1-3

  Nicole Hall

  MODERN MAGIC BOX SET Prequel & 1-3

  Copyright © 2021 Nicole Hall

  All rights reserved.

  Cover designed by Germancreative

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Don’t miss an installment from Nicole Hall. Sign up for her newsletter.

  Contents

  Modern Magic

  Modern Magic

  Accidental Magic

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Insidious Magic

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Treacherous Magic

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Impulsive Magic

  Also by Nicole Hall

  About the Author

  Modern Magic

  Modern Magic - Prequel

  MODERN MAGIC

  Copyright © 2020 Nicole Hall

  All rights reserved.

  Cover designed by Germancreative

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Don’t miss an installment from Nicole Hall, sign up for her newsletter.

  Modern Magic

  Modern Magic - Prequel

  Charlotte Azoria was not comfortable sacrificing a live chicken. She couldn’t even find a live chicken. The best she could do was the pigeon she’d tricked into a cat carrier by putting a cream cheese Danish inside. Charlotte bent down and stared into the carrier sitting in the middle of her living room. The pigeon was huddled in the far corner staring back at her with beady little eyes. She winced. It would probably peck her if she reached inside.

  With a sigh, Charlotte sat down next to the carrier on the floor. The spell book was open in front of her, but the writing was almost too faded to read. The two old ladies in the antique store had assured her the spells were legit. She’d tried to tell them she needed something to make her braver, and they’d insisted one particular spell in there was perfect for her. Charlotte flipped a few more pages, careful not to rip them, and stopped at a picture of a burning book with a demon coming out of it. Someone had put a lot of time and effort into that picture, intricate black scrollwork wound its way around the page and swirly writing that was probably Latin calligraphy took up the middle.

  Charlotte shook her head. She didn’t need whatever this spell was for, she needed courage. She’d slept through Latin in high school anyway. A couple of pages beyond the flaming demon, she found a diagram detailing how to properly extract the beating heart from a chicken. Charlotte shook her head. Maybe this book wasn’t the best choice after all.

  Or maybe KFC would do. They probably had piles of chicken hearts that they threw away.

  Charlotte eyed the pigeon one more time then stood up to get the phone. They were going to think she was nuts, but at least she wouldn’t have to do battle with a tough street pigeon. She snorted. It would probably give her rabies to spite her.

  Three rings, one very strange conversation, and twenty minutes later, Charlotte returned triumphant with a fried chicken heart in a to-go bag. She hoped a fried heart would work since the people behind the counter weren’t allowed to give her any raw food, even a heart. Tossing her keys toward the couch, Charlotte moved the pigeon to the kitchen table, where it cooed at her. Apparently, it approved of the change of plans.

  Charlotte set the book on the floor at her feet so she could see it. The spell was pretty simple. Create a consecrated circle with sea salt. After rolling up the rug, she used her shaker to pour salt in a wide circle around her on the hardwood floor. Light the incense anointed with a virgin’s tears. She struck a match and set one end of her cinnamon incense from the Renaissance Faire blazing. Add a drop of blood into the dew collected at sunrise. Charlotte took a deep breath and pricked her index finger with a needle. Blood welled up and she let a drop fall into the cow mug filled with tap water. And finally, she was supposed to extract the beating heart from a small chicken and recite the words she could barely read while holding it above her head. She tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled out the greasy chicken heart. Holding it up she said the words in the book and waited.

  No lightning, no sudden gusts, even the pigeon was quiet. Charlotte’s shoulders slumped. For once, she’d like to be confident out among other people, but she was a walking train wreck in public. People made her anxious, the anxiety made her clumsy, and she blurted out whatever weird thing happened to cross her mind. Heaven forbid someone gave her a job to do that had more than one step. She’d get so wrapped up in trying to do the first step perfectly that she’d skip the next one and ruin everything.

  Thank god her trust fund made it so she didn’t have to go to work every day, though she’d trade the freedom for her parents back in a second. She should have known better than to expect some magical spell to help change her personality.

  She lowered the heart and stared at it. It smelled like fried chicken, but the lump didn’t look all that appetizing. Her hands were slimy and the incense
was giving her a headache. What a waste of a Saturday. She could never go back to KFC, the book was useless, and a queasy, tired feeling was bubbling in her stomach.

  She really wished the pigeon hadn’t eaten her Danish.

  As if on cue, it started flapping its wings and squawking loudly, making the whole carrier shake. Charlotte rolled her eyes. Now the stupid bird was going to kill itself anyway. She dropped the heart back into the to-go bag on the floor, which promptly fell over and knocked the incense onto the book. Tiny flames sprouted almost immediately and spread across the pages. Charlotte’s eyes widened and she bent to pat them out, succeeding in getting a face-full of blueish smoke that smelled like cloves and something exotic.

  The patting seemed to be fanning the flames. They looked about ready to jump from the book to her floor, teetering on the edges of the pages but not spilling over onto the cover. Coughing, eyes watering, she finally grabbed the cow mug and dumped the water on the book. The fire went out with a hiss and more smoke billowed up. Great. Her security deposit probably didn’t cover accidental spell book fires.

  Charlotte opened the side window next to her bookshelf and sucked in a lungful of fresh air. Smoke floated up past her, pale against the dark, cloudy sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning danced above the trees. Why was her life like this? She wanted to be able to talk to someone other than her best friend. Every time she tried some method to smooth things out, everything got tangled worse than before. She sniffled and the smoke cleared from her sinuses a bit.

  A strange scratching noise from behind her penetrated her thoughts, and Charlotte looked over her shoulder. Sitting on top of the charred book, scratching at the remaining bits of paper, was a tiny creature that looked like a woman with horns, claws, and a thin tail covered in shiny, dark purple scales. Charlotte watched it for a second longer, then spun back toward the window. She blinked, slammed it shut, and turned around completely.

  It was staring back at her with golden cat eyes.

  Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. The thing cocked its head and sort of smiled, baring two pointy fangs. Panic erupted full-blown into every part of Charlotte’s body, and she screamed. It squeaked and jumped back from the book. Without thinking, she ran past the heaped-up rug and into the adjoining bedroom, flipping the light on and slamming the door behind her. Leaning back against the thick wood, Charlotte panted and shook.

  A faint scratching sound came from the other side of the door, and Charlotte whimpered. The fear subsided a little when she realized it couldn’t get through, enough so she stopped reacting and started thinking. The thing couldn’t possibly be real. It looked like a demon, kind of a cute demon, but a demon either way. It had fangs. And claws. Charlotte shook her head. What was wrong with her? A possibly dangerous creature appeared in her living room and she thought it was cute. She snorted in disgust and moved away from the door.

  She kept her room fairly neat, preferring order over chaos in most things, but she’d left her laptop open on the bed. It squeaked as she sat down on it, eliciting another series of scratches from the other side of the door. First things first, she needed to know what she was dealing with.

  “Google, don’t fail me now.”

  Finding information on a small demon-like creature with purple scales was surprisingly easy. Wikipedia had a site with an extensive listing of otherworldly creatures, complete with drawings. She found the thing listed under Faux-Demons.

  The Crelpia Imp. Not, in fact, a demon. A rare form of imp that is mischievous but harmless. They can be killed in the old ways, though without injury they do not age or die. They do not need to eat, but they like to chew and bite. Imps are loyal and trustworthy once they have bonded with a companion. Some groups believe that parts of an imp will grant wishes if properly prepared. Some even go as far as to kill the imps and keep the bodies as good luck charms reminiscent of a rabbit’s foot, but there is no proof to back up such a claim.

  Proof? Old ways? What’s an old way for killing an imp? Charlotte shook her head. This was crazy. She must have finally cracked or something in the smoke was making her hallucinate. The scratching came again from the other side of the door, and Charlotte picked up her cell phone. She’d do what she always did when she was unsure, text Keely.

  I need help! I either summoned a tiny demon or I’m tripping hard.

  As usual, Keely responded almost immediately. The girl was never without her phone. Send me a pic!

  No way, weirdo. What if it attacks me?

  You said it was tiny.

  Yeah, but it has a bunch of pointy parts. For real, what do I do? If I’m hallucinating, I shouldn’t drive, right?

  Three dots came up, but it was a while before the next message. Call Brandon. He’s right over in Kilgore, and he’s free tonight.

  Charlotte gaped at her phone. I’m not calling your brother because I accidentally got high or whatever.

  Fine. I’ll call him. Don’t go anywhere.

  No! What’s plan B? A minute went by, but Keely didn’t reply. Keely Elizabeth Cole, you answer me right now!

  No response. Keely wouldn’t hesitate to call Brandon if she thought it was an emergency, but the last thing Charlotte wanted was the guy she’d had a crush on for her entire last year of high school to come talk her down from a bad trip.

  The scratching had stopped, but Charlotte wasn’t ready to face the living room yet. Thunder crashed, a lot closer than before, and rain was starting to pelt the windows. A storm must have rolled in while she was arguing with her useless best friend.

  According to the suspiciously helpful Wikipedia article, the imp was harmless, but she couldn’t let it wander around the apartment. Who knew what that evil pigeon would do to it? She needed to trap it somehow. Charlotte chewed on her bottom lip as she looked around the room. Her gaze stopped on the wicker laundry basket.

  She scooted across her bed and dumped the dirty clothes by her closet door. The basket was thickly woven but it had openings that could act as airholes. Assuming the imp needed air. Charlotte crept to the door. She turned off the light and pulled it open a little bit. Nothing darted inside, so she tip-toed backward until her legs hit the bed.

  When she climbed up, the resulting squeak had the imp poking its head around the frame. It sniffed the air and blinked a couple of times, then walked into the room with its tail swinging back and forth.

  Charlotte made a clicking sound and the imp looked up at her and smiled again. Her pulse raced as it got closer. It may have been harmless, but it still had sharp fangs and claws that could hurt. A foot from the bed, the imp stopped and looked back at the door. Charlotte jumped down while it was distracted, bringing the basket down over its head. Since it was only about the size of her hand, there was plenty of space for it to move around. The imp hissed at her and immediately started chattering in a language that sounded vaguely Slavic. Then it began chewing on the wicker.

  “No. Bad imp. You don’t chew on the cage.” Charlotte caught herself wagging her finger and closed her eyes. She’d lost her damn mind.

  They sat in her bedroom staring at each other for a solid minute. The imp was female, and she looked like she was doing complex thinking rather than wondering if the wicker would taste good slathered in cheese. Could she figure out how to get out of the makeshift cage? Charlotte grabbed a couple of her heavy reference books from her desk and put them on top of the basket. No harm in being careful.

  Charlotte sat down on the floor and leaned back against the bed. An imp. A real imp. She’d accidentally summoned an imp using a fried chicken heart. Yep, still sounded crazy. She rolled her head to the side so she could see the imp biting the wicker at different spots everywhere she could reach. Definitely intelligent. After completing a full circle, she sat down cross-legged in the middle of her little area and watched Charlotte with her bottom lip sticking out.

  “Don’t look at me like that. It’s for your own good.”

  The imp tilted her head, and crossed her arms.


  A loud banging on the front door interrupted their staring contest. Charlotte grunted in annoyance. Keely had called Brandon. She gave the basket a wide berth and trudged across the living room. The banging came again. Charlotte opened the door to a scowling male towering over her. A fine mist of droplets glistened on his leather jacket and dark hair. He must have brought his motorcycle. Brandon brushed past her into the apartment, and her heart jumped. He hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d seen him when Keely had come home to visit, and her reaction to him hadn’t dulled.

  “Keely said you had an emergency…” He trailed off as he got a good look at the living room. “I guess she wasn’t exaggerating this time.”

  Thunder rumbled, and the air outside felt charged and wet. Charlotte stuck her head out and looked up. Angry clouds lit by lightning flashes were roiling above them, blocking out the stars. The rain wasn’t falling in earnest yet, but it was coming. She closed and locked the door, then turned to find Brandon standing over the ruined spell book.

  He mangled the Latin title of the book, and looked up at her. “Do you know what this says?”